


Chicken Soup+Honey

by JustAnotherWriter (N1ghtshade)



Series: Advent Calendar Gift Fics [1]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Sickfic, advent calendar gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 07:44:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1ghtshade/pseuds/JustAnotherWriter
Summary: Jack once told Mac that after all the freakish deadly viruses and poisons they’ve been exposed to in their years with the Phoenix, he’s never going to complain about the common cold. That, however, is possibly the biggest lie Jack Dalton has ever told.This is the first of my series of gift fics from Tumblr!





	Chicken Soup+Honey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadoKat771](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadoKat771/gifts).



Jack once told Mac that after all the freakish deadly viruses and poisons they’ve been exposed to in their years with the Phoenix, he’s never going to complain about the common cold. That, however, is possibly the biggest lie Jack Dalton has ever told. 

Jack’s honestly surprised when the first one to get sick this year isn’t Mac. The kid’s usually the one who shows up one day sniffly, tired, but insisting he’s fine. Jack’s pretty sure the kid’s terrible sleeping and eating habits are to blame. Well, he’s not even sure you can call them “habits” because habit implies a degree of regularity and consistency.

No, the one who brings home the bug is Riley. Three days after her last undercover op, she arrives at work with a red nose, a handful of kleenex shoved in her jacket pocket, and a few choice words for the guy who’s currently sitting in a Phoenix holding cell, with pretty much the same thing Riley has now.

“Was it really necessary for me to take his glass and drink out of it?” She grumbles.

“We needed to get something to pull his fingerprints off,” Mac says. “And you didn’t actually have to drink any of it.”

“Well, excuse me for not wanting to look suspicious.” Riley curls into a chair.

“Hey, that’s  _ my _ chair,” Jack says, shooing her off it. “Go contaminate the couch.” 

Apparently Riley does just that. Because two days after that, Bozer and Leanna  _ both _ get sick. Within hours of each other. Mac mutters something about shared saliva spreading germs, and Bozer gives him a dirty look before dramatically blowing his nose into a handful of tissues. 

WIth Bozer sick, Jack’s sure it’s only a matter of time before Mac gets it. And he knows Mac doesn’t do sick well. Most people who get colds get a runny nose, some coughs, and possibly a headache or a fever. Mac, in the time Jack has known him, has had two double ear infections, three sinus infections, bronchitis, and pneumonia twice. Even the Phoenix’s mandatory flu and pneumonia vaccines don’t seem to help. 

It’s not, most likely, that Mac has a worse immune system than other people. It’s that he refuses to take a break until he crashes. So Jack’s bound and determined to make sure that doesn’t happen this time.

So when Mac stumbles into the War Room blearily rubbing his eyes and swallowing shakily, because the poor kid  _ always _ gets a horrible sore throat to go along with everything else, and unlike a normal one it lasts for  _ days, _ Jack takes one look at him and bundles him back out the door, exposure to germs be damned. 

He drives Mac home, because the kid’s in no condition to do it himself. He keeps falling asleep with his head leaned against the cool glass window. When they get to the house Mac’s barely coherent, and he only stumbles out of the car when Jack tugs on his arm. “Hey kiddo, time to get you inside.”

He deposits Mac on the couch with three blankets he finds in the living room, draped over chairs and other furniture, and then goes to the kitchen. As expected, Bozer has three cartons of chicken soup in the fridge. And Jack is now more than willing to forgive Leanna’s organization efforts because he finds the soup, a clean bowl, and a ladle all in five minutes. Last time he hunted high and low for all the silverware before finding it supporting part of one of Mac’s inventions. 

He heats a bowl of soup and carries it over to Mac, who’s now buried under the blankets, sniffling and looking thoroughly miserable. “Hey kid, I brought you something.”

“Not hungry,” Mac mumbles, his voice all thrown off by the stuffed nose. He sounds like a petulant little kid, and once again Jack’s reminded of how  _ young _ Mac actually is.  _ When a kid like him has to grow up too fast, sometimes they never grow out of some things.  _ Mac’s insatiable curiosity, his social awkwardness, his sometimes hard to manage emotions...he’s still a little kid who wonders why Dad doesn’t love him and what he can do to change it. 

“I know, but you gotta eat something or you’re gonna start throwing up.” Another way in which Mac deviates from the normal routine of common colds. His stomach reacts  _ very _ badly to mucus, and if he doesn’t eat, which he rarely does on a  _ normal _ day, he’s going to get sick. And once he does, he can’t stop. “Plus, it’ll feel good on your throat.” 

“Fine.” Mac takes the soup bowl and swallows a few mouthfuls of broth, then sets it down. “I can’t eat any more.” Jack knows that look on his face well enough to grab for the trash can.

When it’s over, he sits rubbing soothing circles on Mac’s back while the kid leans off the side of the couch, trembling uncontrollably. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be fine.” He texts Riley one-handed, asking her to bring over the honey and herbal tea she’s been using. She’s finally on the upswing of her cold, and she won’t be needing too much more of it.

When Riley does show up, with tea, honey, and also extra boxes of kleenex and a bag of cough drops, Jack sets to work. He gets Mac comfortably settled on the couch by himself, although the kid’s started shivering and Jack hates to deprive him of the warmth. He makes a mug of tea with a generous addition of honey, and carries it back to Mac.

“Ready for round two, bud?”

Thankfully this time what part of the tea Mac manages to drink stays down. And a few minutes later the kid nods off to the opening credits of the original  _ Star Wars. _ Jack grins down at the messy hair that is all he can see of the kid. 

It takes the better part of a week for Mac to shake the worst of the cold. But by the time the next weekend rolls around, he’s bouncing around the house like a golden retriever on crack, if one happened to have the IQ of Albert Einstein and a penchant for taking apart household appliances. The waffle iron, the blender, and the toaster oven have already fallen victim.

So when Jack gets a text from Matty he drags the kid into the car as well.  _ If I leave him home alone he might blow the place up.  _

He pushes open the War Room door only to be greeted by a massive sneeze. Matty is glaring at both of them, holding a Kleenex in one hand and a mug of tea in the other.

_ Oh no... _


End file.
